I call it an error, not because my suffering was meaningless, but because for years I believed it was who I was.
An error of pain I wore like skin, an error of regret that replayed itself every night, an error of wanting validation from people who only knew how to take, never how to see.
I stayed too long inside that error, I made a home out of hurt, I learned how to function while broken, how to smile while bleeding, how to show up every day with a heart that was quietly begging for rest.
There were days I woke up already tired of living, not tired of breathing, but tired of carrying. Carrying memories no child should hold, carrying shame that was never mine, carrying the weight of other people’s cruelty as if it were my responsibility to make it lighter.
For so long, I did not live, I existed., I moved from day to day like a ghost in my own body, present but absent, alive but disconnected. I mastered the art of pretending I was okay because being honest felt dangerous, being honest had never saved me before.
I was once a small girl who trusted, a small girl who believed adults were safe, that love meant protection. That girl learned early, brutally, that innocence does not guarantee mercy.
She was raped, sexually abused, not once, not twice, but so many times that her mind learned to escape when her body could not.
She survived by disappearing inside herself, by becoming quiet, becoming agreeable and by becoming strong far too early, and no one taught her how to come back. So, she grew into a woman who never truly healed, only endured.
A woman misdiagnosed over and over, told her pain had no name, that it was exaggerated, that it was “all in her head.”
A woman whose body screamed what her mouth had learned not to say.
She walked into rooms hoping for kindness and found judgement instead, she showed up to workplaces ready to give her best, only to be told, behind her back, that she stinks, that she is a problem, that she does not belong, no one had the courage to say it to her face, but everyone had the audacity to say it when she wasn’t there.
She was called fat, mocked, reduced to whispers and laughter, turned into a topic instead of treated like a human being.
Every word lodged itself inside her, every look stayed, every silence screamed louder than insults, she learned that some leaders do not lead, they dominate.
They shout, they humiliate, they weaponize power and call it authority, they make others feel small to distract from their own emptiness.
She learned that some colleagues lie without shame, distort truths, magnify her mistakes, and excuse their own.
She learned how exhausting it is to be constantly watched, documented, judged, how heavy it feels to know that one misstep could be used as proof that you were never good enough to begin with, and still, she showed up every day, smiling, working, trying.
Breaking quietly where no one could see, at home, she carried more, the sister who took on burdens she never created, the daughter who felt cut off, forgotten, replaced, the last-born who learned that love can be conditional, that silence can mean abandonment, she gave until there was nothing left, and later felt guilty for being empty.
This,,, this was the error. Not the pain itself, but the belief that she had to stay inside it to prove her strength.
The belief that enduring was the same as healing.
The belief that choosing herself would make her selfish, ungrateful, wrong.
But today, something ends.
Today, I am learning to stand again, not because I am no longer hurt, but because I refuse to crawl anymore. I am learning to smile again, not the survival smile, but the fragile one that trembles with hope.
I am learning to live, not as a reaction to trauma, not as a collection of wounds, but as a woman who deserves peace.
To those who took my pride, my softness, my sense of safety, I let you be.
To those who still strive for my downfall, I let you be.
To leaders who made me feel less than human, I let you be.
To colleagues who lied, whispered, and watched me struggle, I let you be.
I am ending the error of being bothered by things I cannot change.
I am ending the error of explaining myself to people who are committed to misunderstanding me.
I am ending the error of shrinking so others can feel comfortable.
I am moving forward, past the little girl who survived horrors she never deserved.
Past the woman who was told her pain was invisible.
Past the version of me that believed suffering was my destiny.
I am ending this error with pride.
Not because I am untouched, but because I am still here, because despite everything, I did not become cruel, I did not become bitter, I did not lose my humanity,
To everyone who belongs to this error,
I am sorry....not because I owe you anything, but because I am leaving you where you are, I am no longer dragging your damage into my future.
I choose me, even when it hurts, even when it feels unfamiliar, even when it scares me.
I choose rest over survival, truth over silence, healing over loyalty to pain.
I matter.....I have always mattered.
And this,,,,,, this is the end of an error I will never return to.
Broken 💔 💔 💔 💔 YES,
Ready 😊 😊 😊 YES
Scared 😨 😨 😨 YEEEES
BUT THIS ERROR HAS TO END NOW.
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